Veil of Silence by K'Anne Meinel Page B

her in, giving her a set of ear-phones too.  She smiled toothily, her baby teeth shining brightly against the brown of her skin.  Marsha sat back.  The kicks from within were making her stomach hurt.  She buckled herself in and put on her own set of earphones.
    “Okay?” someone called into them and she gave him a thumbs up.  She didn’t feel like talking.  She was too ill and was hoping she wouldn’t vomit.
    She closed her eyes and felt the sickening lurch that meant they were taking off.  She quickly opened them to watch the children’s reactions.  Bahir’s big brown eyes were wide with excitement.  She didn’t look scared, which was a relief to her mother.  She looked down at Amir and he was playing with the earphones, the muffling of the noise enticing to him.  He had felt the lurch, but didn’t really pay attention to it as he wasn’t looking out the windows.  Marsha leaned back and closed her eyes again.
    It didn’t take long and they were already landing.  The corporal who had jumped in with them escorted them into a hangar, carrying her duffel bag.
    “Do you have a change of clothes in that, Captain?” he asked her.  “Do you have local clothing?”
    “Why?” she asked, curious.
    “You are to change into it if you do,” he told her.  “We’re getting you out of here anonymously.  Do you need a burqa?  A chador?  How about the children?”
    “No, I have what I need here,” she indicated the duffel bag.  Now she understood why Linda had told her to pack everything.  She was grateful that someone had washed the garments as they’d been full of dust from their harrowing escape and no amount of smacking would release it all.
    The corporal gave her privacy, leading her to a small, anonymous office while she changed out of her ill-fitting military clothing and into the beautiful Afghan clothes.  She hid the children and herself with the absolutely ugly and all-encompassing burqa.  She was grateful it wasn’t the kind that had a net across the face, but was sure if Malekah had thought of that, she would have insisted that Mahsa, meaning Marsha, wear one.  She was careful to attach the chador across her face, leaving only her eyes visible.  Next, she covered up Bahir in another burqa she had stolen from their camp.  She’d chosen it because its size allowed her to hide the child.  Most children, most female children, didn’t have to wear these black robes until they became teenagers.  This one was a pale blue color.  Her tiny daughter didn’t look odd in it and it hid her features well.  Next, she put the one on Amir.  Zabi would be furious if he knew that his son was wearing ‘women’s’ clothing.  Anything that impinged on his masculinity was a threat.  She hadn’t understood that at first.  Most of the men in the village were decent, but Zabi took much pride in his claim on the American woman.  She’d found later that many had recommended that she be returned, but he had kept her for her ability to fight, for the fact that she had been overcome, that he owned her, and that she’d given him his long-sought-after children.  Once she gave him a son, he wouldn’t have let her go unless in death.  Amir didn’t want to go back in the burqa because it was too hot.  Marsha had finally calmed him after his terror flying in the helicopter, but the big tears were still obvious on his small face.  She laughed and cooed with him, tickling him, trying to distract him as she dressed him.  There was a knock on the door.
    “Captain Gagliano, ma’am,” the corporal made it sound like an apology.  “Your escort is here.  I have this for you,” he said, showing her a bottle of infant drops.  She frowned until he explained that they would help make the children sleepy for the next stage of their trip, especially if Amir acted up again.  “My wife has used them to help with the air pressure on their ears.”
    Marsha was pleased and thanked him for his foresight.